MI7.
by Redaura
Summary: Why couldn't I stay at my nice safe desk? No, instead I have to go the Labyrinth to do God-knows-what with that- that- bastard there. I don' know why he guns for me so much. I mean it was just a STO that I won. But that doesn't explain why I'm here...
1. Part 1

AN: Rated for mentions of homosexuality and swearing. Read at your peril. Also do I continue? Do you like? Any major flaws or is it just to boring. I blame reading Anita Blake novels and Thursday Next books for this. Please review.

Disclaimer: I disclaim all but the MI7 and characters I have invented. Two so far: Eric and Holly. Yey!

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Sometimes the way forward is in fact the way backwards. So therefore the way backwards is the way forwards. And nothing is never ever what it seems...

Just think of the film. The Labyrinth, **Jareths' **Labyrinth. It's a maze of illusions and images. And note the fact that Sarah goes through the wall to get in to the Labyrinth that logically should mean she goes back out of the Labyrinth. This should technically be left on the red sandbanks facing a sign that says 'no rude bitches in here, ta very much!'

So, if you find yourself standing on that bleak hill, feeling a big dollop of guilt and possibly a little bit of love you would have a single-mindedness to get through that Labyrinth and kick a poor Goblin Kings butt.

Unfortunately for me I was just a cadet in training for the infamous MI7. The one that deals with other worlds.

I said 'lets go that way', and pointed away from where the Labyrinth seemed to be. When they ignored me I went down anyway, and I found myself in the Goblin City. When the others came to get me back because they'd found the way into the Labyrinth they where astounded. 

It's not that difficult to realise that the Labyrinth is a Labyrinth of your mind. Some people need a physical task, miles and miles of impossible obstacles. Well, me, I've never been fond of unnecessary work.

Through the Goblin City we scurried to take back that dummy representing the child we had to claim for our Standard Training Operation. Jareths chagrin was sort of funny viewed safely from the other world. Our superiors weren't happy either. The object of the Labyrinth lesson was to free our minds from how earth had trapped them and teach us to be humble.

So, true to our friendly nature in the MI7 everyone knows that I am the one that beat and figured out Jareths Labyrinth, and he knows it to. I'm not his favourite person. 

Come to think of it I don't think I'm anyone's favourite person.

****

Extract from Commander Holly Venus 

I stared blank eyed at the clock, my mind raging a tirade of all the trooper expressions I'd picked up since I'd blundered into the ranks. 

It had been an accident, honest. Just typically me to boot. The first time ever, that I am drunk on my nineteenth birthday and what do I do? Nope! I don't get a tattoo bad or other wise, no I don't go and destroy something and no, I don't get to break the law.

I just enrol myself along with a dubious drinking companion that I meet somewhere into the MI7. The secret service unit that deals with threats from other worlds. 

And that was the year that they gave cadets training in a _real_ other world. The Underground, in the Labyrinth to precise. Getting out of that one was a close one. Now they all have 'high hopes'. In reality they just want to see me fall and fall and fall... until I smash. 

And that's why I'm staring at this nifty thirteen houred clock brisling with rage to over come my fear.

His Majesty, the Goblin King of the Underground _requested_ that I act as the negotiator. I mean, now I'm a Commander I can sit at a desk and do paper work and get paid lots thank-you-very-much. Instead they decide that I have that Labyrinthine way of thinking that will come out on top. 

Really it was just a nerd with no friends watching and re-watching the video. The Goblin King in that was sooo much nicer. David Bowie at his best. The real thing though? Well, over-sexed, arrogant to the point of extreme and chauvinist don't do him justice. 

The clock chimed a steady, heavy thirteen o'clock. The bastard was late.

"I'm not late." He sounded so _amused_ by it. And he could read some of my thought... "Didn't you always want a clock like this?" His voice, not the question, that was the important thing. It made me want to kneel at his feet, touch his boots and beg for all that the voice offered. Silk flowing like water over fevered flesh. An inferno of desire all for me...

I managed, barely shake off the Mesmer. 

It was a good thing that I was the job and the job only. I didn't have any erotic fantasies to do with the _real_ Goblin King. But why did they send me here? When someone more diplomatic and sure of them selves could have done it? What does _he_ want?

I blinked the questions away and opened my eyes a second later. He had moved from behind me and was kissing my hand like a gallant butterfly. His thin mouth was caressing my hardened knuckles causing goose pimples to crawl away with my skin. His ever changing mismatched eyes where a mystical players gaze of jewel green and deep, sky blue. Symbols of freedom. His platinum was spiky, seemingly of its own free will that softened his ageless face and topped his tall, thin and muscular frame. His black cloak swirled harshly against his leather outfit. 

I rudely snatched my hand away and really wished I were home. "What do you want?" 

He raised his crescent eyebrow patterns at me. "They didn't tell you?" he sounded pitying and...mocking. Was this revenge? Why would he want revenge? Okay, he doesn't need a reason... 

He quirked his head a smiled a broader wolfs grin. "Would you care to retire and change into something more suitable," he looked pointedly at my jeans and tee shirt, "and we can... discuss the matter." A damn timely pause and a slurred insult. Just when I was beginning to think he was ill...

I took a deep breath and let it out, mentally toning down my answer. By the time it came out of my lips the swear words where deleted and it was even polite. The same way he was polite. "I would care to discuss business now and I hardly think you need complain about how I dress." I looked pointedly at his clothes thinking as hard as I could _leather pants are GAY! _

He didn't look too happy. Could it be that a certain Goblin King is homophobic? Either way, he was silent, just watching me intently.

"What do you want me to do?" I simplified for him. I fizzled up at the look on his face. "I'm sure you could find a brothel even here. Or maybe Eric..." Eric is the only blatantly gay guy in the MI services. Poor guy, they can make it hell for him. He's one of my few friends.

But now he was looking as mad as I was. Madder, it was instant fury that beat my puny little spark. I always got myself into these situations. All mouth and no bite. That's me. I tried subtly. 

"I apologise for the implied insult if you apologise for _your_ implied insult." Or, in proud guy short hand I'd opened the means to let it slide. Clever me.

I blinked again, and wouldn't have noted the natural function I do every few seconds or so if I hadn't have changed location. I was standing in an ornate large room that would be hell to keep warm in these archaic times without magic. I ignored the niceties of the room and took in the details. It was a security nightmare. Lots of cover for people who don't like me to hide behind and in. Add elf-boy...

If they wanted to get ride of me surly they could just offer me a pension? 

But I was here, and I had a suitcase full of guns. It made me feel just like Anita Blake. 

Not really. Anita Blake would be able to figure out all of the details and go home to yet more trouble...

Shit. What the hell was I going to do?


	2. Part 2

I set to work on my room. First, all of the suited armour could go over _there_. Easy huh? Just pick up a full suit of armour and carry it for twenty feet. I ended up kicking it into pieces –at the cost of my toes – and lugging it. So I was fit off all that sitting at desks. 

When I had a nice pile of plate armour I started looking behind the drapes. They where heavy and dusty, with rich colours that would have looked better when they where new. They seemed to follow a certain person style. The one I was gingerly lifting off the wall had a scene of a willowy woman surrounded by Goblins. Or maybe it was just the contrast. 

The next one was fifty shades of red. And no, it wasn't embarrassed to be stuck on the boudoir that the Goblin King had given me. It was some Underground battle scene. Blood was everywhere, along with severed body parts and wicked looking blades. Obviously it was just the cannon fodder dying or they'd have been magic blazing in the sky. This one was strategically placed at the foot of my bed. That would put anyone in a great mood to wake up to. Good job when I wake up I'd have moved all of this crap.

I stifled a squeal as a huge spider scurried out from under the cotton and velvet, with silky webs trailing from its arse. It was huge! Bigger than my hand, with brown hair... _Oh god!_ Goose pimples paraded across my skull and down my body. I shuddered, nearly dropping the hanging. My hair brushed across my cheeks, and I flinched, afraid it was one of eight legs, making its crawling way across my head. 

Afraid of spiders? Brave tuff me? 

As quickly as I could, with out being to wimpy about it I rolled all the hangings up and dumped them as far away from where I would be as possible. 

Now for my favourite bit. Unpacking. 

I had two suitcases. One small, and one large. The small one held jeans, blouses and my wrist knives with toiletries. I assume they have a laundry here. If not, I'll live. I survived the training, right? But the large case was the most necessary. I have gotten as far in my life as to need a gun for comfort constantly. 

The things I was looking for was for the large, ridiculous French doors that walked out on to an airy fairy balcony. I wouldn't stand on that for love of money. The only thing holding it together was King Jareth's tenuous hold on his Kingdom. 

But for the gaping entrances the patio doors left open I had these nifty defences. Bombs. As soon as someone stepped on them they'd blow up. I'd have to remember to jump through the windows, but no one else would hopefully get in. Unless they could fly, then I placed iron netting across all of the windows. If I hadn't come here I wouldn't get the chance to use mine, Eric's and Damon's Garrison. 

As for the door, I put an alarm on that. The kind that did go 'bang', but would only take a hand off. If a fairy opened it they'd be able to regenerate any lost flesh. 

And I do know that the more powerful Fae can apparate, I'll just have to rely on my immunity to Mesmur. To aid that along I added some jewellery. Iron necklace with a cross bolt pendant but a snapable chain so I couldn't be strangled. There is a reason why Fae where gloves, they can grab iron. They can't magic the iron, but they _can_ magic the leather. The bastards don't even get a flesh wound if they grab an iron sword. Iron _does_ make them queasy so I forced some earrings into my old pierced ears. These where guns. 

Was I sending an aggressive message out? Just to be safe I stashed my gun, the safety firmly on between the headboard and the mattress. Having a gun under the pillow was a bit... well, I'd woken up with gun imprints on my cheek. I couldn't stay still when I slept. Bearing that in mind, I placed a gun at the bottom of the bed. They naturally had iron shot in, after two chambers of lead. Warning shots. If I truly needed those I was dead anyway.

After due consideration I had a sheathed knife tucked in my knickers. Damn uncomfy but it wouldn't walk. With a baggy T-shirt with a vulture hunched over a dead tree saying 'Fuck patience, I'm going to go kill someone' no one would want to pay me a midnight call. Hopefully. 

Now I'd just have to rely on my finely tuned instinct to wake up if anyone entered this room without my permission. Nothing like boys wanting to put spiders in your bed to tune in such instinct.

I dropped into the bed and shivered. Obviously the persona that had kept the room warm didn't approve of all the iron. Fuck that. I dragged myself out pulled more clothes on, with my thick bed socks. These socks could do serious damage if I kicked someone, and as it was, my feet would be boiled, but not cold. 

And while I was up I could check the bathroom. I hit myself over the head. The bathroom… why didn't I alarm the bathroom? I hastily did so, and started looking for St Johns Wort. To my disgust someone had removed it. That someone really didn't want me to defend myself using natures natural remedies. I'd just have to rely on my gun. Good job I can aim.

Fae can be cruel. Maybe because their parants didn't explain to them that humans and other mortals don't enjoy their fingers being pulled off, or because they can. Either way, I really don't want to be on the receiving end of that cruelty. 

*

The moon was odd. There was something wrong with the moon. Lunar alert! It looked like a crystal ball, suspended by the black hands of night to softly glow and sparkle so we could see the outlines of our feet. And where they where disappearing. 

I swore and started to struggle. The more I struggled, the more I sunk. The more I tried to stop my self struggling and just stood there, the more I still sank. The ground was just normal, it wasn't even bubbling. Why was I sinking? Male, utterly masculine laughter made me jerk my head up. I narrowed my eyes at the familiar shadow of the monarch. His hair was a golden, silver halo in the bare light. "Having troubles, my trooper?" 

Trooper? _His_ trooper? "I was fine until you came along!" I snapped. I was mid thigh, and panic was clawing at my stomach. I wouldn't be able to breathe, my body would force me to suck in lung fulls of earth...

I could feel him smiling. This has to be a dream, it's got to be a dream.

"Are you so sure? My iron carrier." His voice lowered to a low growl.

Was that a hint to get rid of my iron I heard there? Was it? I don't think I heard anything… I yipped, as I dropped to my waist, it closed around, cool and dry and solid. I couldn't move my toes. Was I saying something about cruel Fae before? "What else can it be." Damn, my voice was shaking, just slightly. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. 

"Nothing is what it seems." His voice was a whisper of silk on silk, hidden, unseen. 

I gave him my best scathing look under the circumstances. "That was last years puzzle. Try a new one."

He grinnned and I could see the flash of teeth, against the blankness of his heavily blackened face, Jesus Christ on a crutch. He had fangs. "Very well. You are sinking. Do you want… help?"

I spluttered. "You're the one making me sink!"

"The Labyrinth resents all the iron and death you are representing." 

Oh shit, cold voice time. "Well what do you expect! I don't even know why I'm here!" Great going girl, just loose your cool in front of the Goblin King. He wouldn't take advantage of it, not he. 

"Scared?" taunting, mocking and... Oh yes, the promise of sex. He had to be an Incubious Fae.

"No! I'm not scared to die." Oh great. Should I just stamp 'Kill me here' across my forehead, oh mouth?

He flung his head back and laughed. It was starting on the bottom of my breasts. I'd always thought my breasts where too big. It was uncomfortable doing sports, but helped in push-ups. Maybe here they would help? Maybe the larger my breasts where the more time I'd have above the ground? You know, more volume to suck in? 

Hey! I was going Underground! 

I have the best sense of humour, especially in these situations. For some reason no one else agrees with me. 

His face was just there, in front of mine. I felt my face going blank, like a computer screen with no wallpaper. On this screen I could pull, happy, not interested and coolly amused. Except when I was truly pissed off. Hopefully a mere thing such as 'in-a-few-seconds-to-minutes-I'm-going-to-die' shouldn't change that. I took a big breath and tried to hold the extra space in my up coming coffin. I looked into his eyes that where now orange. An over looked colour was orange, red overpowered it for passion, yellow beat it for happiness. Things that where orange such as clay where termed as 'red'. And there are those fluorescent orange safety clothing's. For being seen.

I looked into his eyes. 

Maybe orange has a different role in the Underground. 

"You need my help?" I hazarded. I'd never been god at 'I spy'. All I could see now where two angry eyes like a burnt down fire waiting to explode.

He picked me up, just gripping my shoulders painfully and pulling me out. "The Labyrinth does not like Iron."

"Well Iron's in my blood. You can't change that. Why did you 'request' that I came here?"

At 'you can't change that' something passed over his face. I wiggled in his grip as he set my feet on the floor. I wasn't short, five eight maybe, but the Goblin King had at least another foot over me. I took a few steps back so I didn't look like a child, craning my neck just to get a glimpse of him. "Nothing is stable here."

"Can't the Goblin King control it?" What was the point of this? More crypticness? I could never figure out riddles until I knew the answers. 

"The Goblin King can, but-" He was putting the voice on, letting me have a glimpse of what was beneath the robe. Lean, pale chest. Co-ee. 

"But?"

"Politically I need more."

Politics? Great. Even better than possible assassins. And the bastard still hadn't answered the question. I raised my eyebrows. "You're asking me to help you play politics?"

"No." the voice was back, warm, rich and alive. "I'm going to use you in my game of politics."

*

Okay, was that too waffley? Let me know!

Ashira – thank you! And I'm glad you can over look my errors. *looks at fic again* I seem to have missed the laugh out loud moments though. Ah well. 

Airlia de Lioncourt – thank you. :) Here's more! 

StarlitAngel64 – thank god Trent can rescue himself huh? He could still be in that cupboard!

Niffers – it's still going. Finally. 


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